Voices of the Oubliette

I am the embodiment of terror,
yet here I sit in silence,
humbled by the cold stone against my back,
immobilized in the grip of darkness.

I am the vicious predator,
revelling in the stench of the kill,
but this cage has an intense fume of death and decay,
an inexplicable portent of fate.

I am the tyrant, destroyer of dreams,
enveloped in the void of despair,
this torment that shows but a miniscule window of light,
a false hope of freedom.

We are the voices of the oubliette,
we become one malevolence of pure regret.

Hear our cry.